


The Peter Parker Approval System

by babyloveparkner



Series: feel it, love it, want it [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, The Peter Parker Approval System gets them laid, Trans Peter Parker, harley buys peter a vibrator, its kind of a joke but also not, this is smut yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 15:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyloveparkner/pseuds/babyloveparkner
Summary: The good news is that Peter’s dorm is only a twelve minute walk from Harley’s.He makes it in five.It’s a record, but that’s not important right now.





	The Peter Parker Approval System

**Author's Note:**

> man..... peter loves having a vagina. vagina’s are great.

It starts with a chocolate chip cookie.

Or, rather, it starts with what’s _supposed_ to be a chocolate chip cookie, though upon second thought, Harley thinks he may have accidentally swiped some of Ned’s gross ass oatmeal raisin cookies as well, which would explain why Peter goes from looking like an excited puppy to trying to fight a grimace in approximately three seconds after biting into it.

“Um.” Peter forces an unconvincing smile, jabs a thumb over his shoulder, and manages to stammer out, “I’m gonna, uh—“ before he spins on his heel and marches to the bathroom. Harley blinks once, looks down at the baggie of cookies he’s holding, and scrunches up his nose when he realizes that there’s a couple of the wrong cookies mixed in with the ones he baked last night.

Deciding to give Peter one of the ones with a lot of chocolate chips once he returns from the bathroom (Harley usually saves those ones for himself, so the fact that he’s willing to give one up is a sign that he cares a lot about Peter), Harley turns around, sorting through the baggie to separate the oatmeal raisin cookies from the rest as he makes his way into his class, legs instinctively carrying him over to the table in the middle of the room. “Does Peter not like raisins?” he asks as he sits down, glancing towards the front of the room to make sure that their professor isn’t here yet - she’s always late on Tuesdays, but he feels the need to check anyway - before turning to face MJ, who’s absently doodling on Flash’s extended arm. “I accidentally grabbed some of the wrong cookies, and he booked it to the bathroom, like, as soon as he bit into it.”

Flash snorts, then instantly smothers it as MJ glares at him for moving. Once MJ is satisfied by his stillness, she goes back to drawing on him and says, “Raisins are in the top ten.”

Harley blinks. “Top ten what?”

“Top ten things Peter is most picky about,” MJ tells him simply, as if the answer is obvious.

“Peter’s not picky,” Harley says, confused, his brows knitting together when Flash just snorts again. This time, MJ doesn’t glare at him, because she’s too busy giving Harley an incredulous look if disbelief. “What?” Harley huffs, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “He’s always tried whatever I give him, and he’s always seemed to like it. He’s, like, the least picky person I’ve ever met.”

Flash’s snorts have turned into quiet wheezing by this point, but both Harley and MJ ignore him. “Peter is  insanely picky,” MJ says, looking borderline scandalized. “He’s just also a huge people pleaser. He pretends to like everything so that people don’t feel bad if he doesn’t like it. We tried to tell him in high school that he has tastebuds and no one expects him to like every single kind of food, but he still does it. It’s the same shit he pulls with a lot of other things.”

“Like what?”

“Like movies,” MJ lists, “and some music, and just, like, most general things that people are interested in. He wants to make people happy, so he pretends to like whatever they give him or show him, even if he actually hates it.”

Before Harley can respond, a soft groan comes from his left, and he looks over to find Peter standing a few feet away, his head tilted back towards the ceiling and his eyes squeezed shut. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that!” he whines, looking more like an angry toddler than a sophomore in college. “Dammit, MJ!”

“Wait, seriously? You’re actually picky?” Harley almost laughs in his state of shock, but the laugh dies when Peter instantly snaps his eyes open and looks at Harley in mild fear, clearly expecting Harley to be pissed off at him. Harley just shakes his head with a smile, goes for a light, joking tone, and says, “I’m surprised you managed to keep that from me for so long, considering you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

Peter’s eyes narrow into a playful glare, though the relief on his features is evident as he drops his bag on the floor and claims his seat in the chair next to Harley. “I’m a great liar,” he says.

“About being picky, apparently,” Harley quips.

Peter just rolls his eyes and smiles.

The Peter Parker Approval System is put into place shortly after that, when Harley realizes that he doesn’t have any clue why Peter’s actual likes and dislikes are. The rules are simple and easy to follow:

  1. Harley has to give Peter something (food, a song recommendation, a movie to watch, etc.) at least once a week.
  2. Peter has to provide a photo/video of evidence that he tried the food, listened to the music, watched the movie, etc.
  3. After that, Peter had to honestly rate on a scale from one to ten if he enjoyed it. No lying is allowed, and Ned will be able to tell Harley if Peter is lying.
  4. In the case that Peter tries to bribe Ned into lying for him, MJ, Betty, or Flash, who are all incapable of being bribed, will tell Harley the truth instead.



Peter reads this list scribbled hastily in one of Harley’s notebooks with a glare, but a smile plays at his lips and he signs his name like it’s a contract on the bottom of the page. Harley pins it on his wall next to his list of things that he wants Peter’s genuine opinion on, and that’s when things start to get a little strange.

See, it starts out simple enough, with Harley making him a playlist to listen to one week, then bringing him one of his Ma’s best recipes the next, then telling him the name of a show or a movie on Netflix the week after that. Peter still tries to sugarcoat his answers, but he’s honest about it, too — for things he doesn’t like, he’ll text Harley a list of reasons that he knows make it objectively good, and then he’ll apologize and rate it a 2/10. Harley is never disappointed by the responses, just saves the photos that Peter sends him into three separate folders on his phone. The ones with Peter genuinely grinning and giving a thumbs up on things rate a 7 or higher go into the **_PBP APPROVED_** folder, the ones with a real yet not as energetic smile as he holds up whatever it is he’s rating that got a four through a six go into the **_PBP TOLERATED_** folder, and the ones where Peter is trying to smile but is clearly sideeyeing the object in question while giving it a threw or lower goes into the **_PBP NOT APPROVED_** folder. Mixed in with these photos are videos of Peter listening to certain songs or ranting about endings to movies that Harley had told him to watch or listen to. It’s a collection that Harley plans to cherish forever.

Then, Harley gets a little bold.

It’s not intentional, really, but they’ve been friends since they were sixteen and Tony introduced them for the first time, and they’ve been kind of toeing at this line of platonic and more-than-platonic feelings since they were seventeen and tried weed together and kissed on the fire escape outside of Peter’s room. Neither of them have ever brought it up, even though both of them definitely remember it happening, but it’s been years and they’re both twenty now and Harley is still head over heels for this stupidly cute boy.

So, he gets Peter flowers, pretends he isn’t blushing when he knocks on Peter’s dorm room door and shoves them into his hands unceremoniously, stammering out something about how he knows Peter has a vase somewhere that he doesn’t use and that he wants Peter’s opinion on the flowers by the end of the week. Peter is definitely red in the face, squeaks out some kind of half assed acknowledgement, and is very grateful that Tony had helped bribe NYU into getting Peter a single person dorm in order to make it easier to keep his whole superhero business a secret. If he had a roommate, they’d for sure be laughing at how dazed he looks as he finds the vase Harley had mentioned and places the flowers in them with a certain kind of tenderness.

Two days later, Harley gets a selfie of Peter with the flowers covering the bottom half of his face, though his smile is visible through the stems and the pedals, and Harley almost makes it the background on his phone.

Things escalate after that.

Sometimes, the things Harley gives him are still simple things, like food or a book or a recommendation for a song or a movie. Sometimes, Harley gives him things as a joke, like the Spider-Man fidget spinner he found online or the peppermint gum that he already knows Peter can’t stand. Other times, Harley gives him more sentimental things, things that hint at untalked about feelings, like a necklace that he thought Peter might like, or this one science pun mug that Peter now uses every day, claiming that it’s his absolute favorite.

And then there’s the vibrator.

Which.

Okay.

Maybe Harley didn’t think this one through.

In his defense, his brain sort of classified it as a joke when he came up with the idea. Like, sure, the thought of it made his face flush with some more suggestive implications, but then he rationalized it as something that would be pretty fucking funny in the future, something that could be brought up every once in a while for a good laugh. He can already imagine the disgruntled, deep frowned selfie that Peter will probably end up sending him, with a text along the lines of _haha very funny keener,_ and it’ll be hilarious and then Harley will give him a movie to watch or something instead. Easy peasy.

But then comes the dilemma of actually looking at the very wide assortment of vibrators online, and having to look up shit that he never thought he’d look up because he knows plenty about dicks and prostates but Peter is trans and he told Harley when they were a little bit tipsy once that he likes having a vagina and he knows it doesn’t make him any less of a boy so he’s not gonna have that kind of surgical change done. And Harley is gay.

Like. Okay. He knows that Peter is a boy and liking Peter doesn’t make him not gay because Peter is a boy and having a vagina doesn’t make him not a boy or anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that Harley doesn’t really know all that much about vagina’s. He never had a reason to, ‘cause he’s from Tennessee and no one really bothered to tell him that transgender people exist when he was there. Everything he learned was online and taught to him after he moved to New York. And even if this is a joke sort of thing, he wants to buy a vibrator that won’t make him look like an idiot. He wants to buy a good one. A _really_ good one. For Peter.

(Which may or may not lead to MJ looking over his shoulder one day and choking on a laugh when she sees what he’s reading. “Are you having another sexuality crisis or something?” she asks, though there’s definitely a glint in her eyes that says she knows exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing, but she’s MJ and MJ likes to be subtle when she calls people out.

“No,” Harley grumbles, cheeks tinting red.

MJ takes his phone and tells him, “That’s a shitty place to look for that information,” as if this isn’t a totally absurd thing to do. His face burns brighter, but he doesn’t stop her as she opens up a new tab and types something in, tapping at the screen for a few moments before handing the device back with a wink. “There. This’ll tell you what you need to know.”

As much as Harley wants to glare at her, he can’t, because the site she pulled up actually does a much better job at educating him than the one he was looking at before.)

There’s a three week gap between when he comes up with this stupid idea and when he actually goes through with it, because he does his research and he has to order the damn thing and wait for it to ship, and then he has to come up with how to even give it to Peter and battles whether or not this is a good idea or a horrible one (even though he’s already pretty sure it’s a horrible one), and then he finally just sucks it up, leaves the vibrator in a little box on Peter’s bed using the spare key that was gifted to him at the beginning of the school year, and spends twenty minutes debating over what to text Peter about it before settling on:

**yeehaw baby:** this weeks peter parker approval test subject is on ur bed

**yeehaw baby:** open it alone

 **spider baby:** oh yeah cause that isn’t suspicious sounding in the least

**spider baby:** what is it ??

 **yeehaw baby:** u’ll see B)

And then Harley waits.

And he waits.

And he falls asleep that night waiting for a text that doesn’t get sent, and when he sees Peter the next day, Peter just smiles and acts like everything is fine, so Harley smiles back and does the same because maybe Peter realized it was a joke and Harley has no reason to feel all weird and anxious about it. Except Peter still texts him a rating on the jokes, too, had rated the Spider-Man fidget spinner a solid three out of ten because it didn’t spin very fast and he sent a picture of the peppermint gum in the trash with a middle finger pointed at the camera and Harley had snorted so hard when he saw it that he nearly choked. So, not mentioning it at all? That’s different.

Peter doesn’t bring it up for three days.

Three. Fucking. Days.

At this point, Harley has driven Ned, who is probably regretting his decision to switch dorms with Flash in order for Flash to room with the cute guy that Ned had originally been sharing a dorm with, absolutely insane with his consistent pacing, and Harley can’t even tell him why. How do you even tell someone this?  _Hey, I bought our friend a vibrator as a kind of joke but also I’m like totally in love with him and I can’t stop thinking about it and he hasn’t said anything about the fucking vibrator that I got him since I gave it to him?_

Harley definitely didn’t think this one through.

And then Peter finally texts him about it.

**spider baby:** okay so

 **spider baby:** 6/10

 **spider baby:** its???

**spider baby:** how do i say this without wanting to jump off a fucking cliff uhhhh

 **spider baby:** its hard to use

 **spider baby:** like

 **spider baby:** Alone

And Harley has a fucking  _ aneurysm . _

**yeehaw baby:** wait you

**yeehaw baby:** holy shit peter

 **yeehaw baby:** you actually used it

 **yeehaw baby:** holy shit

**yeehaw baby:** holy fuckgin shit

**spider baby:** FUCK WAS I NOT SUPPOSED TO

 **spider baby:** I FIGURED IT WAS A JOKE BUT

**spider baby:** BUT LIKE I STILL USUALLY TRY THE JOKE ONES?

**spider baby:** OH MY GOD IM SORRY THIS IS PROBABLY SO FUCJING AWKWRD SHIT

**yeehaw baby:** NO ITS

**yeehaw baby:** its okay!!

 **yeehaw baby:** im like

**yeehaw baby:** im kind of disappointed tbh

**spider baby:** ims orry fkfjfj shit

**yeehaw baby:** no i just mean like

**yeehaw baby:** i put an embarrassing amount of research into finding a good one to buy

**yeehaw baby:** and it only got a 6/10????

**spider baby:** i

 **spider baby:** i mean

 **spider baby:** it wasnt bad

 **spider baby:** it just

 **spider baby:** hard to hold onto when ur like

 **spider baby:** In The Moment

 **spider baby:** yk?

 **yeehaw baby:** okay to be completely honest im not sure what exactly u mean by that but its okay u dont have to explain it to me

 **spider baby:** well its just like

 **spider baby:** jesus christ this is hhhfhfhfh

**spider baby:** it felt. Really good

**spider baby: ** but also like

**spider baby: ** the angle was like making my wrist cramp and my grip kept slipping

**spider baby:** which is why i said its hard to use alone yk?? bc if someone else was using it on me thatd be an entirely different story

**spider baby:** but like i could bump it up to a 7/10 bc it like. it got the job done. pretty well.

**yeehaw baby:** im g oanna pass otu

**spider baby:** wh???? w Hy??????

 **yeehaw baby:** there is

**yeehaw baby:** very little blood flowing to my brain right now

**yeehaw baby:** holy fu ckc peter im hhhhhhh

**spider baby:** oh

**spider baby:** o H

 **yeehaw baby:** shit is it my turn to say sorry

 **spider baby:** no

 **spider baby:** fuck

 **yeehaw baby:** sorry

 **spider baby:** dont be sorry im just

 **spider baby:** deadass?

 **spider baby:** ur not fucking around?

**yeehaw baby:** that  depends

**yeehaw baby:** will u hate me if i said i wasnt

 **spider baby:** definitely not

 **spider baby:** i’d probably embarrass myself by doing something dumb if ur being serious

 **yeehaw baby:** what kind of dumb ???

**spider baby: ** well

**spider baby:** i mean

 **spider baby:** one of the rules to this whole thing is having photo or video evidence

 **spider baby:** so,,,

 **yeehaw baby:** oh fucj

**yeehaw baby:** f cisk

**yeehaw baby:** im sof cukginserious

**yeehaw baby:** shit okay i

 **yeehaw baby:** i an So serious rn

**yeehaw baby:** fuck peter im so fucking attracted to you and i kinda bought the fuckin vibrator as a joke but also because im so into u

**yeehaw baby:** like more than just physically into you ive been wanting to date you since we were seventeen jesus christ i like you so much

 **spider baby:** no joke?

 **yeehaw baby:** no joke

 **yeehaw baby:** i promise

 **spider baby:** hhhhhhh

**spider baby:** okay

**spider baby:** _[ image attached ]_

**spider baby:** _[ video attached ]_

Harley sets his phone down, the screen turned off, and gets to his feet to pace around the room again. Thankfully, Ned already got fed up with his pacing before Peter texted him, so he already left to hang out with Flash and Betty instead, leaving the dorm peacefully empty besides him and his thundering heart. Which, honestly, he thinks might be beating a bit too fast, to the point that he thinks he might actually be having a heart attack, but he doesn’t dwell on that thought, just keeps pacing for another few moments before facing his phone again, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he swipes the device off his bed and opens up their texts to look.

The picture isn’t technically all that revealing, but it still makes Harley’s mouth go a bit dry as he looks at it. It’s just a photo of the vibrator sitting in Peter’s lap, but Peter’s thighs are bare and the vibrator is unboxed, which means this picture was either right before it was used, or right after. God, he needs water. Fuck.

The video causes the rest of Harley’s blood to go south the instant he realizes what it is.

There’s no visual outside of the occasional hint of light, giving Harley the impression that the phone was on the bed, camera against the blankets, but upon turning up his volume, Harley quickly discovers that there’s audio. At first, he’s not all that sure about what he’s hearing, just some kind of white noise and shuffling against the sheets, but then he hears Peter’s breath hitch, and he realizes that the white noise is actually the sound of the vibrator and all the air gets forcefully pulled out of his lungs as he listens to Peter fucking  _moan—_

He gets another text.

**spider baby:** do u want to

**spider baby:** can you

**spider baby:** do you wanna come over

**spider baby:** please

**yeehaw baby:** oh my fucking god

 **yeehaw baby:** yes yes i want to come over

**yeehaw baby:** i’m  on my way

The good news is that Peter’s dorm is only a twelve minute walk from Harley’s, so all he has to do is throw on a large enough sweatshirt that will hide the very obvious bulge in his jeans and shove his feet into the first pair of shoes he sees before he can book it out the door and sprint down the hall.

He makes it to Peter’s dorm in five minutes.

It’s a record, but that’s not important right now.

Once he reaches Peter’s dorm, he hesitates for a moment, because they haven’t bothered knocking for a couple years now, but he feels like he needs to knock in this situation. So, he raises a fist uncertainly and goes to knock on the door, only to be interrupted by the chime of his phone going off in his pocket. Peter’s ringtone, the Kim Possible theme song.

**spider baby:** harley just come in please

And, well, that’s all he really needs before he’s using his key to open up the door, stumbling in so quickly that he nearly falls flat on his face, but he manages to catch himself on the wall and auickly kicks the door shut behind him, breathing heavily from how fast he sprinted up here and from just how much adrenaline is coursing through his veins right now.

“Hey,” he hears Peter say, and he looks up instantly, scans over the slightly dark room until his eyes land on—

A wounded sort of noise makes it’s way from the back of Harley’s throat.  _“Fuck,_ Peter.”

Peter is laying on his bed, blankets kicked off carelessly to the side, against the wall, and he’s only wearing a sweatshirt that goes down to mid thigh and absolutely nothing else. The material of the sweatshirt is bunching up slightly. Peter’s skin is flushed. All of it.

“God,” Harley breathes, feeling flustered and shocked and oh so overwhelmed. “You look...”

“You, too,” Peter murmurs, eyes raking over Harley’s disheveled appearance with an obvious shine of want in his eyes, biting his lower lip and looking way too fucking good, Harley’s head is spinning. Peter holds out a hand towards him, beckons him over with a curl of his fingers and a soft, “C’mere,” that Harley is helpless to do anything but follow.

Harley staggers his way over to Peter’s bed, somehow has the braincells left to remind him to kick off his shoes before placing a knee on the edge of the mattress, takes Peter’s hand in his as soon as he’s within reach and wants nothing more than to crowd into his space and blur the lines between them, but he holds back, gaze flickering between Peter’s eyes, and asks, “Can I kiss you? ‘Cause I really fuckin’ want to kiss you. Everywhere, all over, all the time.”

The noise that Peter makes is somewhere between a whimper and a whine, and he practically lunges forward, kissing Harley hard and sudden, wasting absolutely no time before tilting his head to the side and deepening the kiss quickly. Harley melts into it, scrapes his teeth over Peter’s lower lip and then soothes over it with his tongue, feeling his temperature rise with every shaky sound he swallows. Peter keens at every movement, breath hitching when Harley dips his hand beneath the hem of the sweatshirt and settles a hand on his bare hip, pulls Peter closer until Harley is forced to sit down completely so that Peter can clamber onto his lap and keep kissing him like Harley is the very oxygen he needs to breathe.

“Shit, Peter, I—“ Harley has to forcefully restrain himself from bucking his hips up as Peter straddles him, stars dancing in his eyes as Peter ducks his head to start kissing along to side of Harley’s throat, fast and desperate.

“Harley,” Peter murmurs, not holding back as he settles himself directly over the buldge in Harley’s jeans, bearing down with a smooth roll of his hips and a light gasp. “I want— I want—“

Harley can feel a tug in his gut, goosebumps rising along his skin as Peter talks directly inro the underside of Harley’s jaw. “What do you want, baby?” he asks, matching the next roll of Peter’s hips with one of his own and feeling his mind spin at the friction it provides. Peter grips at the material of Harley’s sweatshirt at the pet name, whining. Harley’s insides feel like goo. “Tell me what you want me to do, Peter.”

“Off,” Peter tells him, tugging at Harley’s sweatshirt in disdain, then sliding his hands underneath it to grip at his sides tightly, though he’s definitely showing enough restraint in his strength to keep from leaving bruises. Harley doesn’t need to be told twice, practically tears off his sweatshirt and the shirt he was wearing underneath it, leaving his torso bare as he carelessly tosses the items of clothing across the room, settling his hands on top of Peter’s bare thighs after. Peter’s eyes are half lidded and darker than Harley has ever seen them, and he sounds so needy when he says, “I want you, Harley, I— fuck, do something, please—“

“Okay,” Harley soothes, rubbing his hands up and down Peter’s thighs gently, though his gaze keeps slipping down to what Peter’s sweatshirt is barely hiding, and god, he‘s aching with need, but he’s gonna do this right, gonna take in all this research and put it to good use, because he’s had so many dreams about Peter and he wants nothing more than to make Peter feel good. He forces his eyes back up, meets Peter’s gaze to ask, “Where is it?”

Peter’s lashes flutter with a blink before he looks at his nightstand. “There.”

Harley follows his gaze and nearly groans at the sight of a half empty bottle of lube and the vibrator that he bought, curved and silicone and still glistening from being cleaned off. “Fuck,” he croaks weakly. “When did you—?”

“About an hour ago,” Peter says. “Maybe two.”

His lungs are about to collapse. “And you—?”

Peter rolls his hips again, bites back a whimper as the rough material of Harley’s jeans rubs against his most sensitive areas. “Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Harley asks, because he really doesn’t want this to end up being something either of them will regret. “I mean, not just about if you’re ready, ‘cause I know people with vagina’s can have, like, multiple orgasms, or whatever, but, like, you’re sure that you want this? With, uh- with me? Are you sure?”

“Harley,” Peter starts, only to shake his head with a fond little smile playing at his lips as he leans in to kiss Harley again, not as hard or as desperate as he did before, instead a bit more sweet and loving. When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far, keeps their foreheads pressed together, lips only a centimeter or two apart. “There’s no one else, Harley,” Peter whispers in admission, features soft. “Just you. Only you.”

Harley almost cums in his pants just from hearing those words. “God, you’re everything,” he groans, moving his hands over and under Peter’s thighs in order to grip him gently and flip them around, pressing Peter into the mattress with a kiss, then another kiss, and then a hundred more tiny pecks as he grinds forward and it’s almost intoxicating hearing the way Peter gasps, then listening when that gasp tapers off into a moan as he opens his legs as far as they will go and pulls the hem of the sweatshirt up to his stomach for easier access.

“Do something,” Peter begs, needs more than the simple friction of Harley’s clothed erection grinding against him. “Harley, Harley, I need—“

Harley starts kissing along Peter’s neck, reaching over somewhat blindly to grab the vibrator and the lube from Peter’s bedside table, scraping his teeth and sucking lightly at his skin before soothing it over with his lips and his tongue. He traces his way under Peter’s jaw, up to the skin below his ear, and then skims his lips over his cheek before planting another firm kiss to his already red bitten lips. Peter is staring up at him in some kind of daze, and Harley is just about to say something when Peter suddenly sinks his teeth into his lower lip and loudly moans. Harley feels his dick twitch at the sound, and when he looks down, he‘s absolutely overwhelmed by what he sees.

Peter is touching himself.

“Oh, fuck.” Harley’s head is spinning as he takes in the sight, the pretty pink skin and the expertise in which Peter circles two fingers around his clit, alternating between going fast, chasing orgasm, before going slow, edging himself to and from the peak. Harley is definitely going to die before this is over, but if he does, he wants to die in between Peter’s thighs, so he goes back to kissing Peter, only now he trails his kisses down his neck, over his collarbones, shuffling his body down the mattress as he goes, until he has to kneel on the floor beside the bed and is pressing a final kiss right above Peter’s knee. When he looks up, he sees that Peter is now propped up on his elbow, his hand stopping it’s ministrations on himself. and Harley has to clear his throat four times before he can say, “I... I wanna know how you like it. Can you show me? Or just keep telling me what you want me to do? Please?”

Peter lets out some kind of strangled noise and nods his head enthusiastically, already continuing where he left off, reaching over with his other hand to grab the lube and shove it towards Harley unceremoniously. “Want you to finger me,” he pants, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. “Please, please.”

Harley isn’t gonna die here, because he’s already dead and this is obviously heaven. “Okay,” he rasps, throat dry. “I know- I know the basic safety for that, though, so let me—“ 

Harley manages to book it to the tiny kitchen sink that’s squeezed into the corner of the dorm and wash his hands in record time.

As soon as Harley (quite literally) slides across the floor to kneel by the bed again, he takes the lube into shaky hands and uncaps it quickly. “You just- I mean, I pretty much know what I’m doing here, but you gotta tell me what you want from me, if you need me to stop, slow down, whatever. I wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah, yes, I will,“ Peter promises, picking up speed a little as he continues to teasingly circle his clit, occasionally running his middle finger over it lightly and sucking in a sharp, sudden breath at the electric shock it sends down his spine. “Just hurry, please, I need you, I need you so fucking bad, Harley, I’m going insane.”

“I’m here,” Harley assures, kisses the inside of Peter’s thigh as he coats his fingers in a generous amount of lube. “You’ve got me.”

And then he’s pressing in a single finger, and Peter loses his breath. _“Yes,”_ he hisses, looking blissed out as he pushes his hips down against Harley’s hand. “God, yes, just- can you, deeper? And then- then crook your—“

Harley pushes in to the knuckle and curls his finger upward, and Peter’s back arches off of the bed entirely, a strangled sort of noise ripping it’s way from the back of his throat, his hand ripping away from his clit in order to grip the sheets beneath him, and Harley feels dizzy when Peter’s strength tears the fabric instantly.

“Another—“ Peter takes a deep breath. “More.”

“Yeah,” Harley breathes, pulling his finger out while wetting his lips anxiously. “Yeah, okay.”

Going slowly, Harley edges two fingers back in, taking his time in order to prevent any discomfort, but Peter is already so wet and loose that Harley’s fingers slide in with surprising ease. This time, he doesn’t wait before curling both of his fingers up again, and Peter is a whining mess within seconds. “Fuck, shit, Harley, c’mere, c’mere, please? Please?”

Harley looks up and sees that Peter has a hand extended towards him, and he’s careful but still quick as he scrambles up from his knees, trying to keep his fingers still, and kneels onto the bed, almost yelping in surprise when Peter tugs him forward, barely managing to use his free hand to catch himself, planting it on the mattress next to Peter’s head, leaving their faces mere centimeters apart. Breathless and very,  _very_ horny , Harley chokes out, “Hey.”

Peter smiles, eyes glazed over, and pops open the button of Harley’s jeans. “Hey,” he murmurs as he pulls down the zipper, lashes fluttering lightly, pushing Harley’s jeans down his thights as soon as the zipper is down. “Off? Please?”

“Okay,” Harley agrees, having to shimmy his hips in a kind of strange way in order to get them down to his knees without moving, then carefully kicking them off once he’s able to. He looks back at Peter, glances down as his sweatshirt, and asks, “Your turn?”

Instantly, Peter tugs the sweatshirt over his head and tosses it into the floor, leaving him completely naked beneath Harley, and oh god, Harley loves him, he’s absolutely gone for him.

“I—“ Harley takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then decided that he can’t find the right words when he’s this far into the clouds. Instead, he ducks his head down and presses their lips together at the same monent that his starts to pulse his fingers within Peter, keeping then curved up and pressing into Peter’s G Spot to stimulate it with each movement. Peter shivers, opens his thighs impossibly wider, and unceremoniously (and literally) rips Harley’s boxers off to leave them both equally bare. Harley chuckles against Peter’s lips and breaks the kiss to say, “You owe me a new pair of—“

Then Peter takes Harley’s dick in his hand, and his brain short circuits. “You look better without them,” Peter says with an edge to his tone as Harley jerks his hips forward, up into Peter’s palm, and groans. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh, fuck,” Harley pants, head dropping to rest on Peter’s shoulder, mouthing somewhat lazily at his collarbones as he goes from pulsing his fingers to full on thrusting them in and out of Peter with vigor, suddenly aching to use the vibrator and see how it makes Peter fall apart. Peter lets out the loudest moan yet and pumps a loose fist over Harley’s dick. “Oh, _fuck.”_

“More,” Peter begs, quickening his pace on Harley’s cock as he wiggles his hips. His entire body goed taut with another moan when Harley does as told, edging a third finger alongside the first two. “Fuck, I wish I had condoms,” he says with a groan. “I really want you to fuck me right now, shit, fuck, Harley—“

Harley lifts his head from Peter’s shoulder to swallow his words with a quick kiss and promise him, “Next time, baby. Besides, I wanna see- wanna see the vibrator in action, wanna see how you react to it.”

Peter’s body physically jolts at the reminder of the vibrator, and he looks at Harley with half lidded eyes and a slightly dropped jaw. “I’m ready,” he rushes out. “I want it, I want it now.”

“You sure?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

“Okay,” Harley says, slowing the thrust of his fingers before pulling them out entirely and grabbing both the vibrator and the lube from where they’re both laying on the mattress. The vibrator is simple, not all that big but also not nearly as small as some of the other ones that Harley saw online while looking for which to buy. It’s white and purple, silicone, soft to the touch, and it’s curved at the end to press into the G Spot with precision. If Harley remembers correctly, there’s ten different vibration settings, too, and there had been another similar vibrator by the same people that included some kind of extended piece meant to simultaneously stimulate the clit, but reviews said that most people preferred self stimulatingon that front while the vibrator did the rest. Everyone’s different, he knows, but he doesn’t have a vagina and decided to trust the majority and their opinion on which was better.

Judging by the way Peter is now eyeing the vibrator with a hungry, lustful sort of look, Harley thinks he made the right decision.

Pouring some more lube onto his hand, Harley looks over at Peter and asks, “How do you like it? Like, do you want me to move it, keep it still, wiggle it around a bit, fuckin’ Cha Cha Slide that shit, or—?”

Peter snorts. “Never use the words Cha Cha Slide before inserting things into my vagina.”

“Noted,” Harley grins, handing the bottle to Peter when he extends a hand towards it. Using his lubed up hand to prep the vibrator, he says, “Seriously, though. How do you like it? Gotta keep me in the loop here, babe.”

“Honestly?” Peter lets some lube dribble into his palm, his lips tugging up into some kind of half smile, half smirk. He tosses the bottle to the side, then takes Harley’s dick in his hand, pumps it twice, the glide easy and slick. “Pretend it’s you. However you’d wanna fuck me. The vibrations will just make it better.”

Harley feels heat curl in his gut at the feeling of Peter’s hand on him, and his mouth somehow feels bone dry despite it watering with want. “Got it,” he murmurs, the vibrator now well lubed and ready to go. “Just let me know—“

“If I want something to change, I’ll tell you.”

Satisfied by that reassurance, Harley positions the vibrator against Peter’s hole and slowly pushes it in, feeling absolutely no resistance as it sinks in, deeper, deeper, until all that’s left is the hilt with the buttons to turn it on, turn it off, and change the settings. Peter’s jaw is already dropped, eyes even more glazed over, one leg hooking around the back of Harley’s thigh and breath stuttering in his chest. Harley gives him a moment, then gently asks, “Are you ready for me to turn it on?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “The third setting is the one I really liked. It’s— _ah!”_

The vibrator comes to life with a simple press and hold of the power button, and Harley can feel the strength of the vibrations from where he’s holding onto the hilt, tingling against the palms of his hand. He clicks through to the third setting, which is somehow an even stronger vibration that comes and goes in pulses, and then he pulls the vibrator out until only the head of it is still inside of Peter, then sinks it back in, out, then in, finding a steady rhythm that makes Peter’s skin flush and his chest rise and fall with every heavy breath. Harley’s blood runs hot at the sight of him looking so turned on, and without really meaning to, he pushes his hips forward to fuck Peter’s loose fist with a groan. _“Fuck,_ Peter, oh my _god.”_

Sucking in a sharp breath, Peter lets out a loud, shaky moan, barely able to concentrate on jacking Harley off as the vibrator continues to push and rub against his G Spot. “This—“ Peter stops, moans again, higher in pitch as he throws his hesd back against the pillow. “Oh, god, this is _so_ much better than using it alone, Harley, holy fuck, holy shit, I’m not gonna—“

“Me neither,” Harley admits breathily, kind of glad that Peter is already so close to yhe edge because he’s been teetering over it since he got thise texts and it’s taking about ninety percent of his will power not to cum before Peter does. “C’mon, baby, what do— what’ll make it better? What can I—?”

Peter sinks his teeth into his lower lip so hard that Harley is almost worried, but he quickly gets distracted as Peter lowers his arm a bit, rests it against his lower stomach and stop moving his hand along Harley’s cock. There’s a moment of adjustment, where Harley slows the thrusting of the vibrator in his confusion, and then Peter flutters his lashes at him prettily and murmurs in a broken voice, “Try moving now.”

A bit cautiously, Harley does, once against pushing his hips forward and fucking into Peter’s fist, only to blink in mild shock at the desperate whine that Peter lets out, loud snd uneven and shaky. Harley looks down to see what changed, and—

Holy fucking shit.

Peter has carefully alligned Harley’s dick so that with every thrust into his hand, the underside of his cock will be rubbing directly over Peter’s clit. Harley pulls his hips back and pushes then forward again, this time watching in wonder as the action provides beautiful friction exactly where Peter wants it. He looks back at Peter, lips parted in awe. “God, you’re somehow a hundred fucking times hotter when you do something smart.”

“Harley,” Peter breathes, looking out of it, dazed and needy. “Move. Please, move.”

Yeah, he can do that.

Quickly, Harley builds up a faster pace than before, thrusting the vibrator in and out of Peter at the same speed that he fucks Peter’s fist, lining it up in a way that, if he closes his eyes, it almost feels like he’s actually fucking Peter right now, and that thought makes his head spin, his heart stutter. Peter used his free hand to curl it around the nape of Harley’s neck and pull him down for a filthy sort of kiss, all teeth and tongue and panting and god, fuck, he’s not gonna last long, he’s gonna—

He’s almost—

Peter lets out a hoarse shout, somehow managing to cum first, jaw dropped and mouth open as he rides the waves of overwhelming pleasure. Just seeing his blissed out face puts Harley that much closer, and he stops moving the vibrator, keeps it pressed to Peter’s G Spot, but he starts thrusting into Peter’s hand sloppily, just needing that extra push to topple over the edge, so fucking close, fuck. The action continues to rub against Peter’s clit, making all of his muscles go taut with overstimulation, but he doesn’t seem against it, instead lifts his hips slightly for better friction, the vibrator still pulsing vibrations inside of him, and then he cums again, with a high whine and a moan and a, “Fuck, I love you—“

Harley cums hard and suddenly, shoots his load over Peter’s bare stomach with a cry of pleasure, weakly fucking into Peter’s fist again before dropping his head on to Peter’s shoulder with a sigh if content. “Holy shit.”

“Harley,” Peter whines, his eyes screwed shut. “Harley, the— _ah!_ — the vibrator, it’s—“

“Shit,” Harley curses, going to pull the vibrator out with an apologetic hum. “Sorry, sorry—“

Peter shoots a hand down, grips Harley’s wrist with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. “Oh god,” he hisses, back arching. “Wait, _wait, fuck.”_

Harley picks his head up with an incredulous look on his face. “Seriously? Again? When people said multiple orgasms, I didn’t think it was like this.” Peter doesn’t respond, just lets out a gasp as he pushes his hips down, takes the vibrator even deeper. “Fuck, do you need me to do anything? I’ll do it, just tell me.”

“I—“ Peter stops, groans in frustration. “I can’t fucking— my hands are shaking, I can’t—“

Glancing down, Harley sees that Peter is trying to circle his clit again, but his trembling fingers keep messing up his rhythm. Harley looks at Peter with a smile, kisses the corner of his mouth, and says, “I’ll help,” before slithering his wag down the bed, once against kneeling between Peter’s splayed open thighs.

Peter moans at the sight of Harley, pulls back his hand to tangle it in the ripped sheets, and watches with hooded eyes as Harley leans forward, presses a kiss to Peter’s hip bone, then a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to Peter’s clit, a mere brush of lips that makes Peter’s breath hitch. Harley doesn’t really know exactly what he’s doing, but with how sensitive Peter must be feeling right now, he’s pretty sure anything will be good enough, so he only hesitates a moment before using his tongue to sort of kitten lick at Peter as he presses the hilt of the vibrator to click back to the first setting, the consistent harsh vibration that had made Harley’s hand feel all tingly.

Apparently, that’s exactly the right thing to do.

Instantly, Peter has his hands buried in Harley’s hair, almost his entire upper body lifting off the mattress as he fucking keens, thighs shaking, trembling finger gripping blonde curls, and his voice is unlike anything Harley has ever heard before as he begs, “Do that again, _please,_ I—“

Harley does.

He does it again, and again, no precision or technique to his amateur actions, but Peter clearly doesn’t care, and Harley isn’t quite sure how to describe the taste, but it’s the taste of Peter, so he definitely doesn’t mind it as he flattens his tongue, flicks it, goes slower, faster, listens to the way Peter reacts to each and every movement, until his muscles tighten, his body goes rigid, and he cums a third time, tugging on Harley’s hair and crying his name.

“Holy shit,” Harley breathes, carefully turning off the vibrator before pulling it out with ease. Peter loosens his grip on Harley’s hair with a long, shaky exhale, instead running his fingers through the curls, a dopey sort of smile playing on his lips. Harley thinks Peter looks more stunning than any porno ever, somehow managing to appear angelic even with Harley’s cum drying on his stomach and a sheen of sweat on his skin, and Harley is absolutely awe struck as he sets the vibrator to the side, moves up to plant his elbows on either side of Peter’s head, and kiss him soundly, murmuring, “I love you,” against his red bitten lips.

Peter sighs into the kiss, moves languidly, soaking in the post orgasmic bliss, then pulls back with a decisive, “Ten.”

Harley blinks. “What?”

“You,” Peter explains, grinning cheekily. “You get a ten out of ten. The vibrator got bumped up to an eight, but you’re a solid ten, Keener.”

Snorting, Harley presses another brief kiss to the curve of Peter’s cheek and rolls onto his side, pulling Peter into some kind of gross, sticky embrace, although neither of them really seem to mind. “I’m honored.”

“You should be,” Peter hums. Then, after a soft moment, “And I know I kind of said it already, but since you just said it, and since when I said it I was kind of riding a high, I’m just gonna say it again now, if that’s okay?” Harley doesn’t respond, just sort of cocks his head to the side and meets Peter’s suddenly bashful gaze, and in a quiet sort of voice, he says, “I really do... like, love you, I mean. I think I have since we were eighteen, maybe even before that.”

Harley’s heart thuds happily in his chest, and he can’t stop himself from kissing Peter again, then again, and over and over until they’re both giggling against each other’s lips, and only then does Harley tell him, “You’re stuck with me now, Parker. No refunds.”

Peter snickers, smile wide. “Wouldn’t dream of ever letting you go after this.”

And Harley is helpless to do anything but kiss him again.

* * *

**yeehaw baby <3:** hey

**yeehaw baby <3:** sugarplum

**yeehaw baby <3:** my love

**yeehaw baby <3:** apple of my eye

**yeehaw baby <3:** peter

**yeehaw baby <3:** sunshine

**yeehaw baby <3:** angel

**yeehaw baby <3:** for fucks sake answer my texts you fucking shit brick

**spider baby <3:** harley it is. four in the mornng. and i was actuslly sleeping for once.

**yeehaw baby <3: **ok yes im sorry but

**yeehaw baby <3:** i had a dream

**spider baby <3:** and you couldnt wait until a reasonable hour to tell me about your dream??

**yeehaw baby <3:** how would you feel about wearing a strap

**spider baby <3:** ........okay im listening

**Author's Note:**

> :)


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